H&M sweater. Mel’s California Select/American Apparel cropped top. Urban Outfitters high-waisted jeans. Vintage shoes
Mel was always the creative writer between the two of us. She has a way with words that I secretly, or not so secretly now, have always envied. We had the same 7th grade English teacher who distinguished our writing by saying that Mel had a more descriptive writing style while I wrote to the point. Back then, I wondered if this was a good or bad thing.
Well, getting to the point, let me just say that…
I like pretty things. I like rugged things. I love to dance. But I need a crowd around me. Then I will get down. Not to the floor. Anymore. That was in college and is another story. I like to go shopping. Obvi. But I can’t stand to spend more than 20 minutes in a store. Unless it’s huge and has more than two floors. I just know what I want. I like to go flea marketing. I suck at bargaining. Must improve on playing hard to get.
I’m polite, say thank you and always hold the door open for people. Elevators are a different story. Sorry. If you’re more than six feet away, I’m the one furiously pushing the close button so I can be the lone rider. I hate elevator awkwardness. It’s mostly the uncomfortable silence. When I get excited I talk to strangers. This happens when I go shopping. Not in elevators. I hate ass kissing. But then again, who does? Actually, maybe you do. Wink, nudge, wink.
“Life is all about ass… You’re either covering it, kicking it, kissing it, or trying to get it.”
I like kicking ass. Not literally. But in life. I mean, I’m a petite girl who doesn’t work out. Regularly. I always cover my ass. With a long shirt or sweater. See above. I’m modest like that. Or maybe it’s because my ass is flatter than yours. OK, I’m over asses. Literally and figuratively. I like vanilla scents, but not things that are ‘vanilla’. Are you picking up what I’m putting down? Variety is the spice of life. I prefer oversized to tight clothes, which are restrictive. To my ass. Like a wise person once said:
“I know it sounds mental, but sometimes I have more fun vegging out than when I go partying. Maybe it’s because my party clothes are so binding.”
Oh Cher from “Clueless”, you speak the truth. Two years ago, I ran/walked the LA Marathon. Without training. And finished. Without collapsing. It only took 7.5 hours. Who does that? Me. And Mel. Who decided to sprint to the finish line with 200 meters left and leave my ass behind. Traitor. We ordered custom-made t-shirts to wear during race day. Yes, we are those chicks. My shirt was camo print. The front read, “26.2 miles” and on the back, “Been there, done that.” Call me optimistic. A little boy on the side of the road yelled to me as I passed, “Go Army. We thank you!” Oh hi camo shirt. You must be in the army. Best memory ever. Besides crossing the finish line.
“Be all that you can be.”
I like to joke around. I like to fool around. Yeaaah. I’m terribly sarcastic and like when people can hang. Ten. Surfers are my weakness. Living in LA helps. At least it’s not the Jersey Shore. Hey, I’m from Jersey. Fist pump. When I was in Hawaii, I took surfing lessons. After wiping out so many times I pleaded with the instructor to bring me back to shore. He refused. Thought I could try one more time. I wiped out. For the 10th time. Ass. Told you life was all about ass(es).
“Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
Did I mention I’m sometimes a walking contradiction?
Thanks for reading my randomness, which was conceived at 4am.